


Behind the Masks

by captaintwerkpants



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Smut Fluff, Vanilla, here you go, idk what this is but, this ain't even enough to be a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7166273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaintwerkpants/pseuds/captaintwerkpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door's locked. The curtains are drawn. The city is hardly silent, but the quiet they share is to themselves.</p><p>His mask is off, his armor gone.<br/>Her diamonds are forgotten, her claws sheathed.</p><p>There are other ways to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Dull title. Edgy summary. Short write. Just need a place to store this since it's my practice in a little more descriptive sensual activities.  
> I don't know what I'm doing..  
> Maybe I'll write more.  
> Maybe not.

She’s a beautiful sight. Her legs, long and thin and flawlessly milky with a bath of chocolate are caressing lightly against the silk of her blouse. It takes him a while to realize the buttons have been undone as the material pools onto the ground at her sharp ankles and arching heels. She tiptoes in a sort of dance, swaying her ungodly hips in a trance to a whispered song of desire which speaks volumes as their eyes latch onto each other. Her fingers bend at the joints, her hair darker than the darkest nights he’s taken to the skies. But, her eyes. The stars behind the shadowy curtains of curls glitter mischievously at him while fingers pad gently across the day-old stubble on his chin. Toes push against the ground and he takes her waist into his arms to engulf her body whole. They dip together, his leg sliding sensually, slowly, between her thighs as a strong hand cups the small of her back and gently guides her backwards until the tips of her hair linger dangerously close to the floorboards. She arches into his hold and laughs with the triumph of trust and shifts her weight until her toes are climbing up his legs and settles her own about his waist. They move again, her sinful hips rubbing against him, his footing a dance of sexual remise. Their foreheads rub. Their hands running expertly over the other’s body. She’s completely bare before him, and so is he. 

First step. She kisses his brow. Second step. He runs his brittled fingers along her smooth back. Third step. She sings into his ear of promises he’s too afraid will be kept. Fourth step. They fall as one onto his bed and deliver exactly what it means to be a cat in heat, and a bat to be feared of.


End file.
